In truth, I warmed to the men above deck in a way I had not expected. Rudolph lay awake each night examining the sky for shooting stars, smoking his brother’s pipe and noting the altered constellations in a notebook with a pencil stub. Hans tried endlessly to coax the kitten to his side, leaving little trails of meat and rubbing her skinny belly until she purred herself into sleep. If Matthias ever wept at night, Hans would wake and start wondering aloud about the life that awaited them in the colony. I believed he hoped to distract my brother from his grief, to give him something to look forwards to.
As Maria and the Johannes, Christiana and Henriette had spoken endlessly about weddings and the life that marriage would bring （‘nine children,’ Christiana had said, ‘if God would so bless me’）， so Matthias and Hans began to fill their nights talking about rain and soil and when they might strike out on their own. Sometimes they lay awake until the early hours of morning, imagining themselves men of independent means.
‘I would like a large farm,’ Matthias said one night. ‘My own farm.’
‘At least you will inherit your father’s,’ Hans replied. ‘Hermann will get Papa’s land if Rosina has no sons.’
Matthias shook his head. ‘I can’t wait that long. I want to work for myself. I want to be the man of my own house. To do things my own way.’
‘Then you shall have to marry a widow, perhaps.’
Matthias pulled a face and Hans laughed. ‘What? There is no shame in a marriage of convenience.’
‘What about you?’ my brother asked. ‘Will you marry for land?’
Hans was silent. I had expected a smirk or a shove to Matthias’s ribs, but Hans lay there, eyes fixed on the firmament, hands behind his head.
Matthias smiled. ‘Oh. You have someone in mind.’
Hans turned to my brother. ‘I did. But no. Not really. Not now.’
There was a long moment of silence.
‘Hanne?’
Hans nodded.
I froze. I had never known Hans thought of me at all, let alone in such a serious manner. The thought of a husband had never filled me with hope or excitement as it did Christiana or Henriette. Rather, my feelings had invariably drifted between dread at belonging so completely to an adult world that promised only more curtailed freedoms, and a vague uneasiness at the prospect of a wedding and all that it would lead to. My thoughts flicked to Elder Radtke’s bull and the cows rolling their top lips back, the undignified rising on two legs, the jab with the pizzle.
‘Does that make you angry?’ asked Hans.
Matthias hesitated. ‘Papa would have liked that. He probably would have tried to arrange it.’
‘My father, too.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Matthias said. ‘You never said anything.’
‘You know, she once told me that she could hear water singing underground. We were kids. Nine, maybe. I started teasing her, and she said, “I’ll show you,” and she started digging. Of course, she didn’t find any water, she was just digging with her hands. But three years later Old Hermann came to divine for a new well and he stopped just where Hanne had said. Sweetest water you ever drank.’
I had no memory of such an incident.
Matthias smiled. ‘That sounds like her.’
‘The thought of her madly scratching at the soil with her nails, like some mad chicken, trying to prove me wrong . . .’
‘She did prove you wrong.’
Hans shrugged. ‘I know.’
‘Mm. Hanne and Hans. A mouthful.’
‘How about you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Matthias stretched, cricking his neck.
‘Any nice widows you have an eye on?’ Hans raised his eyebrows and my brother started laughing. ‘Maybe Mutter Scheck?’
Matthias picked up his pillow and belted Hans over the head with it.
‘Hey!’ Daniel raised his head. ‘Some of us are trying to sleep.’
Matthias and Hans settled themselves back into bed and soon, after a few fits of ribbing, sleep overwhelmed them.
I was wide awake. My fingers felt thick with blood, my knees jellied. The glow of the night watch’s pipe floated orange in the darkness. The night was unclouded, pitted with stars, moonlight pooling in soft echo on the weathered boards. I felt the cold air address my hot cheeks.
Hans, I thought. I might have been married to Hans.
Had my parents known? I agreed with Matthias: Papa would have approved of Hans. Both of my parents had given me an understanding of what they considered important for a successful marriage: faithfulness to God, strength and an ability to work hard. Practical skills. Property. Hans was the son of an elder, just as I was the daughter of one. He seemed strong enough. They would have liked me to marry someone from Kay. Someone they knew.